Diary of an Apprentice
Located deep inside the archives of the Grand Library in Dalaran are catalogs and evidence collected from the Third War. These records are understandably few, many of them having burned with Dalaran at Archimonde's hand. Among the selections available only to Kirin Tor magi, there are two journals bound in dyed leather beside a sealed scroll bearing Dalaran's insignia. Closer inspection reveals that the leather binding on one journal, with the name "Nicholas" inscribed on its front, is in good condition and has only minor discoloration, while the other is in remarkably worse shape: the cover is loosely intact and is slowly crumbling away. The scroll, any magi of the Kirin Tor would note even before glancing at its contents, is an interrogation log; likely between the author of these journals and an inquisitor for a crime. Sealed Scroll This yellowed scroll appears, from a glance, to reveal a great deal of information about the journals’ author. As such, those interested in this collection would begin here: it is dated during the Third War, a brief time after Dalaran’s collapse, and is indeed a written record of an interrogation between two people, whose names are provided below. Removing it from its case and unraveling the paper reveals several pages of script. INTERROGATION LOG CASE: HIGH PROFILE MAGIC MISUSE, FIRST LOG DETAINEE: NICHOLAS JACOBSEN INQUISITOR: GARTHALD SPELLSTRIKE Ten hours after initial capture and detainment. An anti-magic field has been constructed around detainee to prevent further casualties. The field is maintained by magus Avernus Ivaris. Inquisitor Spellstrike enters the room. There is silence for three minutes as he makes solid eye contact with detainee. Inquisitor: Hello there. I have been summoned by the Kirin Tor to speak on its behalf regarding your . . . recent transgressions. For the record, please state your name, title, and allegiance. Detainee: I am Nicholas Jacobsen, apprentice of Ur, and mage of the Kirin Tor. Inquisitor: 'Ironic that you should say so. Were you conscious of your actions? Or the strain that you’ve put on already drained Kirin Tor resources? ''Detainee falls silent and he looks at the floor, though he is clearly thinking about what the inquisitor has said. '''Inquisitor: I’ve asked you a question, Nicholas. Detainee: Ur has not lived to see what became of Dalaran after the siege. Even now, those mindless wretches pollute our once grand city with their presence. It is what my master would have done. Inquisitor: I have read Ur’s published works and he never once condoned summoning the worgen. In fact, he iterated upon the point time and time again that they are mindless beasts who cannot be reasoned with. Though it seems you are not the first to ignore his warnings. Detainee: Yes. Yes! Archmage Arugal will surely vouch for me. He is a grand mage of the Kirin Tor who expertly commanded an army of worgen against the Scourge. He stopped the Scourge’s advance, when no other king nor army could! Inquisitor: Is that why you attempted to summon worgen? You believe you can control them? Detainee: Yes. I summoned them to serve our alliance and coax the Kirin Tor from its shameful hiding. Once they see my beasts on the battlefield, they will know who is victorious. Lordaeron, Dalaran, even Quel’Thalas . . . all of the traitor-prince’s wrongdoings end with the worgen. Inquisitor: You must have overlooked it when Arugal’s worgen turned on your fellow countrymen and slaughtered them mercilessly. Even the worgen you summoned were not under your control. They attempted to take as many lives as they possibly could. It would have been a bloodbath, had we not stopped you when we did. The detainee opens his mouth to retort but falters. His eyes hover between the inquisitor and his hands. He begins to twiddle his thumbs, and does not reply. Inquisitor removes a scroll from his robes and begins to read from it. Inquisitor: Nicholas Jacobsen of the Kirin Tor and former apprentice to the late Ur. Your studies and Kirin Tor membership are hereby suspended indefinitely. For your perilous abuse of magic and the danger you pose to this Alliance of Lordaeron and humanity itself, you have been sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment in the dungeons of Dalaran. Detainee: Do you intend to throw me at the undead hordes and have me become one of them? Dalaran is overrun! Inquisitor: Grand Marshal Garithos and his men are preparing a frontal assault to reclaim the city. You will be transported to the dungeons as soon as his mission is complete. May you spend the rest of your days reflecting on the shame you have brought your master and the Kirin Tor. Interrogation concludes and Inquisitor Spellstrike exits. Several Kirin Tor battlemages remain on-site to watch the detainee and prevent any attempted containment breaches. Diary of Nicholas Across from the scroll lies one of the journals, bound in discolored leather and with the name "Nicholas" etched on its cover. Given its exterior condition, the book was likely kept some years before the Third War and managed to remain a stranger to all of the devastation that has been wrought throughout the northern Eastern Kingdoms since. It appears to be an earlier diary kept by the magus Nicholas Jacobsen, although many pages have been torn out partially or wholly, leaving much to be desired from the contents. First Entry My name is Nicholas Jacobsen. At the behest of my betters I will begin keeping this journal detailing my day-to-day affairs, in addition to my magical compendium. They say there is no greater orator than the pen, and no sharper ear than paper. We shall see, I suppose. I hail from Gilneas, which begs an obvious question. I fought with my country proudly in the Second War, though I did not intend to condemn myself along with Greymane. When the Wall was nearing completion, I gathered my belongings and departed for Dalaran. The Kirin Tor’s libraries are so much more extensive, and their magics incredible. The orcs may be little more than beasts, but I would not be anywhere near the man I am today if I had stayed true to Greymane’s arrogance. Third Entry Magic is a wonderful thing! No matter how much you think you’ve learned, something always manages to surprise you. I was lecturing a group of initiates, demonstrating that through the application of magic, one can conjure quasi-real reflections of him or herself, when . . . The page appears to have been torn quickly into this entry. However, the remainder of the page with only a small chunk missing is intact, continuing from an uncertain point. . . . tangible images. He claimed that my magic was merely a sub-school of a much larger one, known as shadow. While I had definitely heard of this magic school before, I had never been able to study it in-depth. After the demonstration, I approached this man and asked if he would like to discuss his magic at length over some wine and cheese. He accepted my offer and proposed to meet me at the stairs of the Violet Citadel tomorrow morning. I cannot wait! Fourth Entry I have finally been apprenticed to a great and powerful sorcerer. I cannot recall being any happier than when Ur said he would accept me. I have so much to do, so much to learn. From now on, I will only write if I find ample time to do so. Ninth Entry It has been a very long time since I have taken up this journal, though I find it only fair to dedicate a few moments and remind myself how far I have come. I am now a full-fledged mage of the Kirin Tor. I share several of my master’s greatest accomplishments, though in truth I only participated in them. The power and knowledge I now hold are . . . both terrifying, and yet invigorating in their own right. If anything, my thirst for knowledge only grows as the fear gradually dissipates. I have Ur’s research into the unknown to blame for that, I suppose. On that note, I will not detail his exploits of the fabled worgen here. For my sake, however, I will say that he is greatly underestimating their potential. I often find myself, when in daydream, pitting the ferocity of such a beast against the orcs’ mettle in one of the nearby internment camps outside Dalaran. Such a fanciful thought, but alas. Terenas is no doubt enjoying his exotic menageries throughout Lordaeron very much: they are too heavily guarded for such ambitions. Eleventh Entry The penmanship of this entry is particularly shaky, and there are faded ink blots on either side of the page. The undead! It would be a fascinating concept to study, were the situation not so dire. I do not have much time; I will record what I know here. Kel’Thuzad, former archmage of the Kirin Tor, betrayed humanity and seeded what is now known as the Plague of Undeath. With the aid of the Knights of the Silver Hand, humanity has quelled this threat. Many villages in the Darrowmere Forest, including Andorhal and Stratholme, have fallen; it rests on the Kirin Tor’s shoulders to quarantine the peoples and prevent the further spread of this disease. However, our ambassador is stuck negotiating with Lordaeron’s ruler, trying to get the order from that ancient buffoon of a king. I will record any further major developments in this old journal. At least it will serve some purpose now. Twelfth Entry Archmage Antonidas is dead. Ur is dead. Our anti-undead barrier couldn’t protect us from the Scourge. We fell just as Lordaeron and Quel’Thalas did. There is only one kingdom that did not fall: Gilneas. I cannot believe I ignored the truth for so long. The Kirin Tor, paranoid from Kel’Thuzad’s betrayal, strictly forbade the use of the worgen and many other magics in a frenzy to salvage its image. Archmage Arugal now lays claim to the fruits of Ur’s research, an entire army of the fabled beasts at his disposal. I understand what I must do now. I will follow in my country’s footsteps once more, and summon the worgen. I will save humanity with the knowledge I possess. Prisoner's Journal In-between the sealed scroll and Nicholas's diary rests the final piece of this collection. A tattered journal missing most of its spine and a peeling leather cover suggests heavy neglect rather than maltreatment, though like its counterpart it appears to have been a journal once kept by the former Kirin Tor magus Nicholas Jacobsen. One must be especially careful when opening this journal and peering its contents, for even the yellowed pages are heavily worn, many singed around their borders and threatening to crumble away. Some pages are even so shriveled that individual sentences have been made across multiple pages using the same line. First Entry This entry is incomprehensible and looks to be made with blood, though the patterns are intricate and not random. It appears Nicholas experimented with using his own blood as ink on this page. He clearly did not use a quill either; the blood smudges are too thick but trail too smoothly to have been done with any conventional writing utensil. Second Entry Unlike the first several pages of this journal, this entry is marked in black ink and appears to have been written with a finely tipped writing utensil, most likely a quill. The entries here do not appear to be very organized, and were written at the author’s apparent whims. Lord Garithos’ men are incompetent, if nothing else – the Kirin Tor does not bother to moderate these dungeons, and so I have been able to smuggle several items of convenience into the confines of my cell. It has taken time to accomplish, though from now on I shall be able to write in this journal whenever it suits me. I cannot recall how long it has been since they brought me to this hellish underground prison. This is the price they are forcing me to pay for threatening humanity, in their eyes. For trying to save humanity, I did not become the hero I imagined myself being. Instead I am ostracized, imprisoned, forgotten. Were the worgen really so bestial and uncontrollable? Of course they weren’t; that was simply the conclusion Ur arrived at in order to save himself from the fate I now suffer from. It seems the Kirin Tor has never approved of others having power. The mysterious Six prefer to manipulate us from the shadows, observing and silencing those who grow too ambitious, even as we are so divided by the undead threat. I digress. At least this journal is not unusable. I was upset with its condition at first, however now I am grateful if only to have a silent companion. Fourth Entry The third entry was too faded to be legible. Several pages in-between are missing as well. Curse these damned mages and their magic! As if it was not bad enough that I cannot summon the arcane at will, I cannot invoke it through runes either. Today I attempted what is classified as a spontaneous rune, a simple design taught to me during my advanced studies as a Kirin Tor apprentice. Suffice to say, because I am writing in this journal, it was a miserable failure. It did not counteract the magical barrier as I had hoped it would, in fact it did not have an ounce of magic in it. I have never felt more frustration than in this impenetrable cell that siphons every ounce of magic from my body and surroundings. I would have my revenge against those loathsome mages, but I cannot break free of this prison. The only pleasures I will ever be allowed again are this journal and the hatred that festers inside of me. Fifth Entry This entry appears to have been written late at night, as some words are bunched together or stray awkwardly with no visible sense of direction. Something most peculiar happened some hours ago. A group of elves were escorted through the dungeons by Garithos’ men, and among them was their prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider! The prince and I have never spoken, though I had seen him several times in passing during his training in Dalaran. He was wearing different robes – they are blood red, a royally becoming color, and I have never seen him wear anything but the blue or purple colors of Quel’Thalas or Dalaran. In fact, all of the elves were wearing similarly red colors. I do not know what this signifies, but their expressions were all grim as they passed by. They did not utter a word, though I wish they had. I doubt I will be able to sleep tonight pondering this. Seventh Entry Marked two days after the fifth entry; the sixth entry contains nothing but ramblings. The screams of many men are filling the dungeons as I write this. My guards abandoned their posts some time ago: a messenger screaming something of snake-women seems to have riled them. Could it be that the arcane aberrations stored beneath the city and in these very halls have been unleashed? I admit, even I am not sure if the spasmodic groans and grinding noises I sometimes hear are the city ruins above or something much more frightening below. Damn those secretive and power-hungry mages! I won’t suffer such a dishonorable death! Eighth Entry I am not sure what is going on. I wholly intend to seize this opportunity, however. The magic imprisoning me is gone; broken during the fighting. I believe my snake-men-and-women liberators called themselves “naga”. It is of no consequence in the end. I am leaving this miserable land, and taking on a new name for myself. Should any Kirin Tor bastard read this, I wish only to express my desire to wring those manipulative archmagi for their hypocrisy and warn any readers to carefully re-assess their allegiance. ''--LARS HENON JALOICH'' Category:Literature Category:Kirin Tor Category:Mage Category:Worgen